That is--
Pale petals... carried on the wind... memories of spring...
The girl, Monica, sang... a pretty sound... the chirping of the birds... the clock's hand moved on ->
That is--
Flowing clouds... linking the blue... memories of summer...
The girl, Monica sang... a pretty sound... the droning of the cicadas... the clock's hand moved on ->

That is--
The moon smiling... through the window at night... memories of autumn...
The girl, Monica, sang... a pretty sound... the buzzing of the insects' wings... the clock's hand moved on ->
That is--
The drowsing snow... enveloping the earth... memories of winter...
The girl, Monica sang... a pretty sound... the roaring winds of time... the clock's hand moved on ->

You ran through this wilderness of life, ravaged by hardship
In search of "things of beauty"
Your sleeping face as you set off on a journey to the endless horizon
Was the most beautiful thing of all, I thought...